


01; Rabbits

by takesushi (ahase)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-23
Updated: 2011-07-23
Packaged: 2017-10-21 16:30:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/227259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ahase/pseuds/takesushi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Now he knows what it means when they say hearts can skip a beat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	01; Rabbits

**Author's Note:**

> old drabble done for a friend some time ago. the prompt was 'bunnies'.

The sun is like a weight on his back, a gentle pressure compared to the cool shade only recently abandoned. It warms the back of his head, stylishly mussed hair and glints off the smooth surface of his shades. It's a bright reflection in the lenses of her own glasses, a gleam on wire frames and darker hair. It lights on her shoulders and the small form in her hands, all whites and mottled browns, like a scene from a photograph. (Perfectly formed and lit, a freeze frame in one seemingly blissful moment only this is the real thing, no cheesy ad or flick or snapshot could capture this the way he already has, already is.)

Don't drop it, she says with a smile brighter than the sun light on her hair. Hold it right, like this.

Her hands on his, coaxing the rabbit into his arms, guiding his own clumsy fingers with her smaller and more deft ones to stroke downy-soft fur. She laughs delightedly when he gets it right, hands hovering close to his to soothe the animal or perhaps even him. (It works both ways around, though he'll never admit to it, not even to himself.)

He cracks a joke and she laughs, and the little rabbit in his arms feels real and warm and when he finally does look up it's to find her watching him, the light still in her eyes and the frames of her glasses like she's made of nothing but that even if the pressure of her fingers on his hands says otherwise. She smiles, and for a moment, he forgets how to breathe, how to think, when she reaches to lift his own sunglasses away from his face, leaning up and closer as she does so. Now he knows what it means when they say hearts can skip a beat, because his is doing just that, and he thinks he can smell the shampoo in her hair and flowers of her atrium on her skin and the light off her glasses is blinding him as he closes in but fuck if he cares, he sees everything he needs to see. Her touch is warm on the back of his head and on stylishly mussed hair and he's

blinking at the ceiling above his bed, off-white stucco and thumbtack holes interspersed here and there and his room's light fixture hanging stupid and uncovered and dark.

Empty hands raised, the ghost of warmth still in them and he thinks he can still feel her fingers on his wrists and the warm fur against his palms, and he lies staring up at them like that for a few moments more, the dark of early morning slowly fading to gray.

It's when he hears the first rattling, morning croak of the crows that he lowers his hands, and pushes himself up and out of bed.

The stupid beta was coming in today, and fuck if he was going to miss Egbert's nattering on about it.


End file.
